Pass This On

PASS THIS ON

By Simon Traum

"Does he know what I do? And you'll pass this on, won't you?"

-The Knife

Two seconds after Bryce opens the door, Gus is all over him. Bryce has just enough time to slam the thing shut behind them before the neighbors decide there's a home invasion in progress, and the next thing he knows, Gus has picked him up under the thighs and is carrying him backwards to the extraordinarily large couch just off to the left in the living room. When he arrives, he drops Bryce onto it, then doffs his shoes and clambers up onto the stunned other man.

Bryce met Gus yesterday, seemingly by coincidence, in line at the bank. Tall, athletic, blond, and a habitual cruiser, Bryce has become accustomed to casting out a few lines over his lunch break. Every once in a while, some man will bite. Bryce thought he'd gotten lucky, finding himself in line behind Gus, a medium-sized, well-built, dark-haired magnet of a man. He didn't know the half of it. Bryce being rather attractive and magnetic himself, and with nothing better for either of them to do as they waited in line, they became quickly acquainted, both trying not to drool too obviously. Gus later overtook him outside the building, asking Bryce if he'd hold his bag while he adjusted his shoelace.

Something happened when Bryce took the carrier bag's strap in his hand. It was like his brain misfired and shut down. His whole arm was tingling, but in a pleasant way, kind of trance-inducing.

Kneeling while he fiddled with his shoe, Gus glanced up at Bryce once, and Bryce's cock got so hard he became dizzy. His entire being was condensing down to the absolute certainty that he must have this man, naked and sweating, willing or otherwise, as soon as it could be arranged. Gus stood up, relieved Bryce of the bag, relieved him further by propositioning him outright, and in less than twenty-five minutes they were wrestling, still half-dressed, on this same couch where Gus has thankfully pinned him down again.

But this time there's a complication.

"Hey, hold on a minute," Bryce blurts in the few seconds Gus is allowing him to breathe.

Gus's muffled voice vibrates into the region of Bryce's right pectoral. "Yeah, what is it?" His handsome head lifts up, looking intensely back at Bryce. His desire is both palpable and touching.

Bryce fights down an immediate urge to roll over on top of him, and says, "I've got company coming. Any minute now."

"Oh. Shit."

"You can stay. Please don't leave, not after working me up like that. I just needed you to know. He called after you told me you were on your way over. He, ah, he sounds distressed."

"Who it it?"

"An old fuck-buddy of mine. Actually, we went to school together, but I don't see so much of him lately. Anyway, he'll be here any time."

"You think maybe he'll want to play?"

"Who knows? He's getting harder to figure out all the time."

(It sits motionless in Gus's bag, waiting.)

A few minutes later, there's a hurried knock on the door, followed by a devastatingly attractive but extremely anxious-looking man with brownish-red hair and mustache, who barges his way into the living room and begins looking behind furniture and underneath cushions.

"Hello, Greg," says Bryce. "Meet Gus."

Greg shakes Gus's hand absently, then stops and looks again, noticing Gus for the first time. A goofy grin surfaces under his mustache, and he seems to relax finally. "Really good to meet you, Gus."

"Likewise," Gus replies. Both of them clearly like what they see.

"Greg, have you been abusing amphetamines?" Bryce asks.

Greg shakes his head and his face pinches inward with tension and frustration. "Shit, I might have to start again soon. I can't keep up with all this shit." He begins searching the room again, but without the same urgency, as if he knows it's a waste of effort. "I thought I might've left it here."

"Left what?" Bryce asks.

"My ballcap."

"I thought you looked different. Man, you've been wearing that thing for years now. No, you didn't leave it over here."

"Oh hell, that means she threw it out," Greg despairs.

"You're still living with her?" Bryce cocks an eyebrow at him.

"We're engaged. Jesus, that was my favorite one," Greg sulks, his body sinking into a slump on the couch. "It'll take forever to find another one that fits like that one."

Gus gets a funny look on his face when he hears this. Crossing the room, he reaches into his carrier bag, rummages around and produces, with a flourish, a bright (but not quite day-glo) green baseball cap, slightly broken in but still pristine-looking. He waves it at Greg, who looks like he might be salivating, and tosses it to him. Greg catches it in midair, then stares at it, statue-still.

"How much do you want for this?" he asks.

"It's yours," replies Gus.

A silent pause ensues. Greg slips it on his head and looks up, green eyes darting between the other two men.

"Aw, you guys were about to have sex, weren't you?"

"Not really," Gus tells him. "We were waiting until you got here."

Suddenly, there's a silver shower of firework sparks going off in Greg's head. Somewhere inside this hypnagogic display is a split-second vision of himself, hemmed in closely by concrete walls under an open sky, fucking the stuffing out of a slim, younger man whose face he can't see. Desire fizzes up, he feels his cock getting larger in his jeans, and all he can think about is escaping from his constricting clothes and getting into bed with his old fuck-buddy Bryce and this cute new guy. A gulf yawns within him, and it feels like nothing will satisfy this hunger like a big, hard cock in his mouth. Right now.

The other two regard him curiously, unsure what's happening until he strips his shirt over his head (carefully removing and replacing his new ballcap), revealing the auburn forest growing over his well-formed torso. This breaks the ice with Gus, who can't resist stepping forward and running his palms over it. A mischievous grin appears on his face as he gropes Greg's body, and Greg helps him out of his shirt. "Nice," Greg mutters as he takes in Gus's own darkly-haired chest. One of Gus's hands travels up to Greg's bushy mustache, extending a finger to stroke it.

"Like it?" Greg asks.

"I want to find out how it feels on my nuts," answers Gus.

"Aw, bring it on, man," Greg tells the handsome stranger. Leaning down, he opens the fly on Gus's pants, hauls his cock into the open and lightly brushes his upper lip against Gus's ballsack. There's a gratifyingly roaring intake of breath from above him, then Gus purrs, "Oh shit, that feels good..." Greg figures there's no reason not to put the meat in his mouth as long as he's down here. He licks up the side of the shaft, and feels Gus's whole body tense. Too good to cool it now, he takes it into his mouth, feeling its girth filling the space available as Gus's hands find their way into the thick hair on the back of his head. Eagerly, he bobs on the prong, eliciting even better noises from Gus.

Bryce moves in on the pair, naked now and helping them off with their clothes. Greg struggles with his zipper, then (not wanting to interrupt his dick-sucking to examine the problem) just forces his jeans over his hips, freeing his cock and balls, which bounce out like they thought they'd never escape. Greg can't think coherently any more as they carry him off to the bedroom. It's been so long, is as far as he gets. He has a brief moment of panic when he realizes his cap's missing, but then he spots it sitting in the middle of the couch, on top of his rumpled shirt, and relaxes.

As they lower him onto the mattress, Greg strokes a hand up the inside of Gus's furry thigh as an overture to guiding Gus's dick back into his open mouth. At the moment, it's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. Tastes even better.

"Oh God," Gus groans. Bryce steps up behind him, letting Gus lean back against him as he gets serviced. Bryce's lips graze against Gus's neck and they both shudder. "Oooh, God."

Greg sucks the prong down his throat, pushing his face into Gus's crotch. He gags once, from lack of practice, but improves quickly. Just like riding a bike. And Gus has got a real suckable cock. It just slips right down Greg's neck like it belongs there. Fuck, he's turned on. He reaches for his own dick, but someone smacks his hand away and grabs it lightly themselves. He can't help groaning as the warm fingers work its hardening length.

He feels another set of fingers slithering up between his asscheeks and that's it. Any inhibitions he has left evaporate. Removing Gus's hog from his mouth just long enough to say, "Aw, I think somebody better stick their dick up me pretty soon or there's gonna be trouble," he flips himself onto his stomach, raising his bare butt in the air and wiggling it.

Bryce is the one who takes him up on it. Just as well, since Greg's not done sucking on Gus. A small piece of him stands back amazed at himself as Gus and Bryce adjust their positions to take him from both ends. He groans loud and pushes himself out as Bryce enters him. He keeps groaning, unable to stop, as Gus uses both hands to keep his cock forced down Greg's neck and Bryce begins fucking in earnest.

Then, it feels like he's lifted out of himself, radiant, leaving only this sacred vessel for pleasure as both men use him to his heart's content. He's still squealing like a pig, but an inner calmness and clarity has taken over for now, something he consistently forgets about unless it's happening to him. It's like a special place that's just his, and he's miraculously found his way back to it. He's so grateful that it's no problem at all to use his body in little ways to make sure the two angels riding him enjoy that ride as much as possible.

Gus is the first to go off. Pulling out of Greg's mouth and yelling, "FUCK!", he holds his cock steady for a second before spewing the first shot of his load right smack into Greg's face. Greg closes his eyes and keeps his mouth open. Gus takes the opportunity to slam his cock back inside, still spurting. "Oh fuck," he gasps, plunging in and out of Greg's mouth.

When he finally withdraws, balls drained, Greg can feel a drop of the sticky liquid hanging off the left side of his mustache, but Gus gets to it before Greg can, dropping onto all fours to lock mouths with him. "Mmmmm."

Bryce, meanwhile, hasn't been idle. Keeping up a steady rhythm to his thrusts, he can feel a sparkling pressure building under his nuts, tight against his body. He's so close to coming, but he needs a slight change in angle.

Without pulling out, he pushes Greg over onto his side and maneuvers himself under one of his legs so he can really get balls-deep. Greg howls, but he's also smiling. Bryce jacks Greg's cock while he pounds; he knows Greg loves it.

"Ha- Here it comes," Bryce rasps through gritted teeth. "Uhhh... Uh! Ohhh!" And then he's shooting off up Greg's clutching rectum.

"Don't stop, man," Greg orders him. "Don't you fucking stop..." His moans go up in pitch when Gus grabs Greg's cock and starts jacking it. "Oh God, Bryce, you're hittin' my spot so good..."

And just like that, he crashes through the barrier and back down to earth, flowing like a volcano over Gus's hand, crying like a child.

And ten minutes later, it's like it didn't happen. He's up and getting dressed, nervously talking about the weather, clearly uncomfortable with what they all just had a perfectly good time doing. Bryce knows it's a waste of time but offers anyway. "Hey, Greg," he begins, "me and Gus were going out for a bite to eat a little later. You want to stick around and come along?"

Greg shakes his head. "Nah, I gotta go. She's waiting for me. Thanks for everything, bud. Especially the cap."

"Yeah." Gus grins, as if at a private joke. "My pleasure."

The door closes behind Greg and they can hear him walking away outside.

"Well, there it goes," says Gus, a little cryptically. "I guess he needs it more than I do."

"That was weird," Bryce mutters behind Gus's ear. They're both lying on the bed with Gus held from behind in Bryce's arms. "Greg hasn't laid a hand on me for months, not since he moved in with that woman he's been seeing. He still hangs out, but not as often, and he won't let me touch him. Now I guess he's gonna marry her."

"You've known him for a while?"

"Greg's an old friend; the first guy I had sex with," Bryce replies. "I wasn't a virgin, but he did show me most of the ropes when we were younger." He sighs. "Greg doesn't just have sex with men. But he's good at it; it's like a talent with him. Guys open right up to him, especially looking like he does, but it's more than that. He knows just what to do to make them feel amazing."

"I know about that," agrees Gus.

"He doesn't have that kind of rapport with women. Watching him try to shut all that off so he can have a trophy wife and family - I just don't know what to think. It seems like a waste to me. And she barely knows him if she doesn't know this about him."

"Yeah, well, better him than you, right?" Gus asks facetiously. "I think I feel your dick getting stiff again."

"It likes you." Bryce reaches around to lightly stroke the underside of Gus's scrotum. "What are you going to do about it?"

The next morning, Greg's still uncomfortable with what he got up to the evening before. He didn't mean to go so crazy with Bryce and his hot friend, but he hasn't had sex with any men in months. He's been trying to give it up. It'll only get him in trouble. This new ballcap is a score, though.

Greg likes the new cap so much he wears it to work that day. No sense leaving it home, who knows what'll happen to it, right? He can't believe how well it fits. He's used to having to break them in, but this one's perfect, if a little loud. And God, he's so horny today. Maybe that romp yesterday evening with Bryce and Gus got his juices flowing more than he was aware. Despite the guilt, he's still riding residual waves of pleasure from that too, so overall he's rather distracted. It takes him quite a while to clue in that he might be attracting attention.

It starts with a memory of that flash he had yesterday, of fucking some hot little bastard. His cock fills up with a tide of bloodflow when the memory surfaces, and every time it surfaces it seems to take him a little longer to get back out of it to the ordinary world. After a few cycles of this, he begins to question what he even wants from the ordinary world while his head's buzzing this way. He keeps having these visions of sensual possibilities lurking just under the surface of things, repositioning themselves, preparing to annex mundane reality. Alive as he is to these clambering tendencies, it's nevertheless a shock when, late-morning, the other X-ray tech, Ed, brazenly lays a hand on Greg's thigh in an unmistakable caress once they have a moment alone.

At first, Greg's whole body lights up at the contact. Then he remembers that he's at work, and this is the last thing he needs here. He jerks away like a live electric wire just dropped in his lap, sending his coffee cup skittering across the surface before him, spilling an abundance of dark, scalding, aromatic liquid. It doesn't hit anyone, but it makes a hell of a mess.

As he and Ed dab at the brown puddles, it appears the spell is broken and Greg's off the hot seat, but just in case, he figures he better get out of there for a while. What's Ed coming on to him for, anyway? He's never done this to Greg before; he's married with four kids. He's Mormon, for God's sake!

Yeah, Greg's definitely got to get out of here. Thinking quickly, he notices the time while tossing a wad of soiled paper towels in the trash. "Oh shit, Ed, I'm supposed to be meeting someone for lunch in fifteen minutes. Gotta run." He almost does, he's in such a hurry to get the hell out of the building.

What's going on here?

Cole is 23. He's tall, slim, gawky and cute, with huge brown eyes and furry buttcheeks. He's never met Greg, but they have this much in common: They both have a taste for sex with other men on the fly. Cole's been a bicycle courier for the past two years. This allows him a lot of leeway if he sees an opportunity to hook up, which doesn't happen every day, but it does happen. The slippery sensations of movement and the immediate proximity of attractive guys are what keep Cole interested in life.

It's the middle of the day and Cole is cutting through the old, mostly disused medical center on his bike when he spots a flash of green and slows down, focusing on it. He's seen the hot guy in the blue scrubs and jeans out here before between deliveries and liked his looks, but it's really the bright green ballcap that does it. The thing almost talks to him.

It's a spur of the moment decision, but seeing the cute X-ray tech walking away halfway to the parking structure, it seems like a perfectly valid idea to ride up behind and beside him, snatching the ballcap off of his head and riding off into the parking garage. Hardly thinking, he hears Greg shouting "Hey!" and the sound of running footsteps whacking cement behind him as he rides the concrete spiral up to the 3rd level.

Once there, he stops, leans the bike against the wall, hangs his helmet over the handlebars. The thin layer of sweat cools as it dries on his skin. It's darker here, and nobody seems to park any higher than the second level, despite the presence of two more floors of parking spaces with the top level exposed to the sunlight. It's clear the entire complex has seen better days; if it wasn't deserted up here he'd never even try what he's currently doing. The ballcap now adorns his head, backwards, and his body's humming all over, twitching and sweaty with blissful, transgressive energy. The arm he used to grab the cap is tingling and pounding along with his pulse. He rubs the growing bulge in his crotch and waits for the nurse to catch up with him.

What the hell is he doing? He's got a string of images playing through his mind like a pornographic kaleidoscope. He's a pretty horny guy, but this is a whole new plateau. He knows it's crazy, but he intends to have this hot fucker in the scrubs, one way or another, as soon as he gets up here.

It doesn't take long. Greg comes panting around the corner at full speed, red in the face and looking angry. Seeing Cole standing half-obscured by shadows seven feet away stops him momentarily, then he steps forward, close enough for Cole to see the heavy auburn hair on his forearms. There's even more poking up through the collar of his scrubs. Gorgeous. Pulse hammering with adrenaline, Cole almost swoons as a wave of pure lust derails any chance he had of backing down now.

"What the fuck you think you're doing?" Greg demands. He's nervous, unsure what Cole's strange behavior portends. "Gimme that cap!"

Cole takes one step backwards. "Come over here and get it."

Greg closes the distance between them in a heartbeat, and Cole suddenly thinks he's made a mistake as the guy's hands seize him and start shaking.

"You little fucker." He cuffs Cole across the side of the head, grabbing the cap's fabric into his bunched fingers and snatching it back. He splays a hand on Cole's sternum, intending to push him backward, but stops with his hand on the smaller man's chest, frozen.

With the prize in his hand, he's lost all momentum, just like that. He looks down at Cole, who gazes uncertainly up at him, and he's the best-looking thing Greg can remember seeing. Greg could fall right into his big, brown eyes and drown happily, never come out again. He feels a tingling sensation running down his raised arm with the cap in hand, stares in disbelief as it drops back down to the surface of Cole's head, depositing the cap there again, then stroking down the side of his face, his neck. The tingling runs a lightning jag up and down his arm, and he knows that he couldn't take his hand away from Cole now if he tried. He can feel the other man's erection rubbing against his leg, imprisoned in his bike shorts.

There's a moment when it seems like he can feel his public persona moving aside voluntarily, when the self he is for appearance's sake rolls over and looks the other way, leaving room for the molten, glowing core of lust to rocket up through him. Taking Cole's hand, he plants it over the bulge in his own crotch and moans louder then he thought he might when the guy squeezes gently, testing unknown territory.

That's the moment when Cole knows he's home free. This guy's way too horny to kick his ass now. "Come on," he tells Greg, grabbing his hips and pulling the bigger man closer, "I think you need this as bad as I do. We should be able to get a little more privacy at the top of the stairwell."

"Yeah, I know," Greg confirms. "I've used it a few times myself."

The kid starts fumbling at Greg's fly halfway up the last flight of stairs, greedily pulling Greg's horn out of his pants and swallowing in down before they can reach the top. He moans softly while he sucks the cock, patiently sawing back and forth on Greg's rock-hard prong. It's all Greg can do to not make more noise himself, one hand spread over the hard, cold concrete behind him, the other gripping the warm ballcap on Cole's head, pushing, guiding his rhythm as he sucks, feet akimbo over four steps with one knee bent, eyes closed in bliss. Greg's always loved to fuck a guy's mouth, and Cole's doing all the right things with his tongue, as well as gripping Greg's ballsack with one hand and tugging gently. Greg's jaw juts forward. "Uuuuhhhhh..."

A jet passes overhead, deafeningly heard before it's briefly seen through the roofless stairwell. They ignore it.

Cole's been working his way out of his bike shorts, sliding them over his ass, then stepping one leg out and leaving the rest dangling around one knee where it won't get in the way. Grasping his own enormous cock with both fists, he continues sucking Greg's stiff horn, moaning rhythmically.

However, the sight of Cole's cute, fuzzy butt exposed all out in the open gives Greg some ideas. Turning the other guy around, but keeping him squatting and hunched over the hand-rail, Greg shoves inside with his spit-slickened prong. He waits, feeling the tissues around his cock adjust, then starts to power-fuck Cole, hard and fast. Cole squeals like he's in pain, but he also props one foot up on the railing so Greg can get better access to his hole. Greg takes that as consent for further rough stuff.

He pushes his cock all the way in and stops, wrapping his arms under Cole's armpits and up behind his head in a full-Nelson, immobilizing him. Breathing in Cole's musky scent, he feels his meat swell inside the pulsing sphincter. "Take this fuckin' dick," he growls into Cole's sweaty ear. Bucking his pelvis repeatedly forward, he jabs his granite prong up inside Cole's churning chute.

The kid whines, but doesn't really struggle, unless you count pushing his ass further back at Greg's pummeling assault. His huge erection is being jolted all over the place from the impacts, spewing long ropes of clear pre-come in Pollock-like profusions over the stairs beneath him. With his face positioned over the drop of the stairwell, he feels the cap fall off his head, sees it twisting beautifully down three and a half flights to land on dimly-lit grey concrete at the bottom. He'll grab it again later, when he leaves.

The hot dude in the scrubs is working his butt like a pro. Cole can tell he's going to get the come fucked out of him, so he holds onto the hand-rail and moans softly, feeling his climax approaching. When it comes, it's like a freefall avalanche of white light devouring him from the inside. He howls loud enough for Greg to put one hand over his mouth.

"Yeah, that's it," Greg pants breathlessly in his ear, pounding his ass for all he's worth. "Your ass is gonna make me fuckin' come, boy!" He keeps pounding steadily and the orgasm is almost like being electrified in slow motion. He can't think anything but pleasure, and the warm grip of the body he's inside. Cole wriggles deliciously both around him and beneath him as Greg holds him in place, ecstatic.

Unloading gorgeously inside the other man, he bellows in his fierce pleasure under a clear noon sky.

Sundown, the same day, outside a large grocery store downtown. The uniformed cop standing outside the entrance looks bored and restless. He also looks big, built and cute, which is mainly what Cole's concerned with. He's hooked up with three more total strangers since earlier in the parking garage. This is unprecedented, and has him wanting to test its limits.

A small part of his brain tells him this is insanity. Even if he has been getting away with it most of the day, attempting to seduce a cop is clearly suicide. But that small, sane part is not enough to quell the screaming tide of lust ricocheting inside him, his head dizzy with buzzing. Cop or no cop, Cole's not done yet, and he wants this guy.

He's trying to decide how to get things started, but the cop's already watching him closely as he rolls over toward the entrance with his green cap still on backwards. Cole takes him in as he gets closer, smiling wider all the time. He feels almost as if he's falling toward destiny somehow, as if he couldn't stop now if he tried, like it's all out of his hands anyway. Might as well relax and let it happen. As soon as he thinks that, it's almost as if he can see the future; he knows he's getting this one, too.

Sure enough, all he has to do is brake within range and the officer's demeanor cracks. Although discreet, he can't keep his hands off of Cole, who wickedly suggests it might be fun if the big man fucks him in the squad car.

Later, mounting the stairway to his front door in the yellow glow of sodium lights, Cole feels exhausted and exhilarated at once. It's a relief when he walks in and detects the scent of food cooking; Blake's already home and has dinner on its way. He walks his bike into the living room, hangs up his helmet, strips off his shirt and falls onto the sofa.

Blake appears in the kitchen doorway, wearing a stained apron over his undershirt. He and Cole smile at each other in welcome.

"You're home late," Blake mentions, but it's not unusual in itself. "Was work okay, hon?"

Cole grins wider. "Pretty damn good. I don't know what was going on, but I had a shit-ton of sex today."

"Oh yeah?" The older man reaches down casually to adjust his crotch through the apron. "Tell me about it."

"Well, it started just before lunch with this way-hot nurse dude in a parking garage, but it got even crazier after I took his hat. He had this bright green baseball cap. The fucking thing was like a good luck charm for getting laid. I switched my helmet for it and hooked up with four other guys while I was out delivering."

"Instead of the usual one or two?" Blake smirks, eyes shining now.

"Yeah, it was funny how it happened. It was all face-to-face; no apps, nothing. I almost forgot I had the phone on me."

"Five of 'em, huh?" Blake moves over to the sofa, dropping his larger bulk over Cole's prone body and straddling his hips. One of his large hands rubs through the smattering of hair on Cole's stomach. "I think you're starting to get me hot..."

"Well, don't let dinner burn."

"I'm not," smiles Blake as he gets up and heads back for the kitchen. "Where's this hat now?" he calls over his shoulder.

"It kept blowing off once the wind kicked up," Cole says. "I gave it away to a cute panhandler after I clocked out." Cole arches his back, grinding his butt into the cushions, feeling his second wind gathering. He's looking forward to feeling Blake inside him again. "Almost fucked him myself, but I was getting tired and I wanted to see you."

"Hope he has as good a time as you did."

"I know, right? Hey, have I got time for a shower before we eat?"

Blake's handsome face appears again in the kitchen doorway. "Don't even think about it. You know it turns me on to smell it on you."

Greg arrives home late, tired out but satisfied. Today was the best day he's had in ages, even though the little bastard rode off with Greg's new cap. He has to admit it was a fair trade. That was the best sex he's had in recent memory, and his usual guilt feelings haven't kicked in. It was phenomenal. It's left him glowing, re-triggering memories from earlier trysts.

He knows he's going to miss this, but he has to grow up sometime, right? His heart sinks a little when he thinks about the woman he'll be sharing a bed with tonight, tries to work up some enthusiasm for her sake. Gotta keep the old man happy. There's no way he's ever gonna get ahead if he stays single.

The metal doorknob is icy under his palm. He's barely through the door before his fiancee is chattering away at him about appointments, fittings, decorators, insurance, rentals and a few other things he'd be happier never knowing about. He misses his ballcap.

"Oh, and wait'll you see the dress..."